The South Will Rise Again
by America50
Summary: America's past comes back to haunt him. And it could end up causing the United States to fall. No pairings as of right now (may change later). Warning for violence/gore, possible OOC later, some potty mouths, and an insane OC.
1. Prologue

**So I've finally gotten around to rewriting this chapter. For the most part the battle scene is the same, but I made a few changes to it so that it's hopefully better than before. **

**Warnings: Violence, some potty mouths, possible OOCness later, maybe character deaths later (not sure on that yet). **

**No pairings as of right now. That may change later though.**

* * *

The South Shall Rise Again

Prologue

_He was afraid, but he called upon all his courage as cannonballs caused the ground and surrounding scenery to explode all around him. Bullets raced through the air, some narrowly missing their target. Sweat and dirt caked his face and clothing as he gripped the dirty old musket in his shaking hands. Ducking behind a tree, he quickly reloaded before peering around the side of the bullet ridden trunk and began firing. Ducking down and shielding himself as a cannonball hit a few yards away, he waited a moment for the dust to clear before sitting up. _

_Off to his right, a gray blur ran behind some trees, ready to shoot their target. Standing out like a sore thumb with his dark blue coat and light blue pants, he proved to be an easy target even through the choking smoke. A sudden burning sensation in his shoulder immediately told him he'd been hit. _

_Straining his eyes through dirt covered glasses, he tried to spot any Gray Coats that may be nearby. Ignoring the burning sensation in his shoulder, he aimed at a gray blob attempting to hide behind a tree. Hesitating only momentarily, he pulled the trigger sending a bullet into his target. The blob jerked violently before collapsing and disappearing from sight._

_Between the deafening explosions of cannons and sounds of gunfire, the voices of men echoed through the forest, each voice shouting out orders or calling for missing comrades. In the confusion of the battle, he managed to steal a chance at escaping to a safer location. He hoped to reunite with his comrades soon to get more bullets and gunpowder and to have some backup as the battle drew on. _

_Spotting a familiar figure in the distance through a thin cloud of smoke, he hurried towards the man only to be blown back when the ground suddenly exploded in front of him. Hitting the ground with a sickening thud, he lay there in a daze. Knowing he was injured badly from the explosion, he still attempted to get to his feet once he regained his senses. Gritting his teeth against the pain that such a normal action caused, he blinked the tears from his eyes and looked where his comrade had been standing only to see what appeared to be a mutilated corpse sprawled across the ground, head blown completely away by the force of the cannonball hitting its target._

_Before he even had a chance to register what he had just witnessed, a sharp kick to his chest forced him back onto his back. Coughing through a combination of inhaling too much smoke and having the wind knocked out of him, he managed to see who had kicked him. Standing above him in an all-too-familiar gray coat and blue pants similar to his own, stood his assailant. The man sneered down at him with a cold glint in his eyes._

"_Ye damned Yank." He spat, aiming his own musket at the downed soldier. He swallowed back his fear as he stared at the man above him._

"_Do what you may, but the north will win." _

"_Ha! Fat chance, ye Union scum. The Confederacy will prevail!"_

"_Not likely. I've heard that your supplies are almost depleted and all of your major ports are under Union control." _

"_Tha' may be, but we'll never surrender to th' likes of you!" The man pointed the barrel of his gun at his head. He just stared up at his would-be-killer, ready to face whatever may happen. _

_A Southern accented voice brought him out of his thoughts. He glared at the man towering over him, fully prepared to be shot. _

"_Any last words, Yankee scum?" The man sneered as his finger tightened around the trigger._

"_The Union will win." He said with confidence._

"_Like hell." The man spat as he pulled the trigger and Alfred's world went dark._

Alfred sat up with a gasp as sleep fogged eyes quickly scanned the area for signs of the enemy. As the fog lifted, Alfred realized that he was in his bedroom and not out in a battlefield. Letting out a shaky breath, he rubbed his face before he reached over to his nightstand and picked up his glasses and settled Texas on the bridge of his nose. Running a hand through his sweat dampened hair, he sighed and looked at the glowing red numbers on his alarm clock. 5:24 AM. Great. Only another hour before he had to get up and get ready for yet another unproductive, yet highly entertaining, world conference. Getting his lazy butt in gear, Alfred swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. After a quick stretch, he made his way to the bathroom to freshen up.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, Alfred noticed some stubble covering his face. Deciding that a good shave was in order, he located his razor and can of shaving cream. Once finished with that task, Alfred admired himself in the mirror for a moment, grinning at his heroic self. Deciding that he could stand to take a shower to get rid of the sweat smell lingering on him, Alfred stripped off his t-shirt and shorts before turning the water on and hopping into the shower.

After shampooing his hair and washing up, Alfred stood under the running water and closed his eyes, relishing in the soothing warmth. As he relaxed, he couldn't help but let his mind wander.

_Soon big brother..._

Snapping his eyes open, Alfred looked around. He was positive he had heard a familiar voice speak to him. Shaking his head, Alfred shut off the water and grabbed the towel that was hanging on the wall. After wrapping it around his waist, he stepped out of the shower and glanced around the small room. Goosebumps appeared on his skin. Whether from the sudden chill of leaving the warm water or from something else entirely was to blame, Alfred couldn't be sure.

"Okay Alfred...calm down...you're just tired and your brain is being a total troll right now..." Speaking softly to himself, Alfred looked in the mirror and nearly screamed when the reflection he saw wasn't his own. Hurrying out of the bathroom, Alfred ran into his room and slammed the door shut. "Shit...I must be coming down with something or something..." Running a hand down his face, Alfred decided that running around dripping wet in nothing but a towel at six o'clock in the morning was definitely not something he wanted to keep doing.

After drying off, he went to his dresser and pulled out the clothes he was going to wear that day. After dressing, Alfred opened his door a crack and peeked out. Nothing but darkness greeted him. Deciding that he was simply overreacting, Alfred made his way back to the bathroom to comb his hair. After completing that task and grabbing himself a quick bite to eat, Alfred headed for the front door, but stopped as he passed the door leading to the basement. As he stared at the old wooden door, he couldn't help but get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Shaking it off as his brain trolling him again, Alfred left his house and got into his car and started it before heading for the conference hall across town.

In the basement, a pair of mismatched colored eyes glowed faintly in the darkness as a cold chuckle echoed off of the stone walls. _Soon..._


	2. Chapter 1

Alfred rushed into the meeting room, kicking the large double doors open in his grand entrance. "The hero has arrived!" He announced loudly. Several nations already present let out groans at the obnoxious entrance.

"Must you always make a scene when you arrive?" An irritated Arthur snapped at his former colony.

"Haha! Of course! Heroes have to make a dramatic entrance!" Alfred beamed as he took his seat next to the older nation.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, wondering yet again where he had gone wrong while raising the hyperactive nation.

Ludwig stood at his usual place at the front of the room and sighed. "Right...now that everyone is here, lets get started." Several more groans were heard around the room, but Ludwig ignored them. He was used to it by now. "Now, the first order of business is the economical problems plaguing..."

Alfred quickly drowned out Ludwig's speech and looked at Arthur. Unlike Alfred, Arthur was actually making an attempt to pay attention to the important matters at hand. However, Alfred's unwavering stare was quickly wearing his already thin patience to its limit. After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only a couple of minutes, of constant staring, Arthur had enough and turned to his former charge. "What the bloody hell are you staring at?" He whispered harshly.

"I had a really messed up dream last night." Alfred whispered back, ignoring Arthur's tone.

"Please, spare me the details..." Arthur rolled his eyes and attempted to ignore Alfred.

"I think he's up to something." Alfred replied, not taking the hint to bug off.  
Deciding to humor the younger nation, Arthur glared at him. "Who?"

"You know who...him." Alfred whispered.

Arthur ran a hand down his face and gave Alfred the most menacing glare he could manage. "Again, who?"

"Al-" Alfred started, but was cut off by an angry German yelling at him.

"America, pay attention!" Ludwig gave the American a stern glare that quickly shut the young man up. Sulking, Alfred sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, his bottom lip sticking out as he pouted. Arthur smirked and crossed his arms, glad to finally have some peace.

The rest of the meeting went on without incident. At least, until Francis could no longer resist the urge to streak around the room and flirt with one of the maids present. After that, chaos quickly followed and Ludwig declared the meeting over before someone got hurt.  
With his nightmare forgotten, Alfred gathered his things and waited for Arthur to gather his own belongings.

"Hey Iggy, wanna go get a burger with me?" Alfred asked.

"No, I don't want to get a burger with you. I would rather not kill myself with that poor excuse you call food." Arthur replied as he closed his small briefcase.

"My food isn't bad!" Alfred protested with a slight frown.

"No, you're right. Your food is not bad. It's bloody terrible!" Without another word, Arthur moved past Alfred and walked out of the room. Sulking, Alfred followed after him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ve~ Luddy, can I make pasta when we get home?" A bouncing auburn haired young man asked, latching onto Ludwig's arm.  
Sighing, the taller nation looked down at his friend. "I suppose a bowl of pasta will be alright...but I am making wurst for _mich_ (myself)."

"Yay! _Grazie_ Luddy~!" Feliciano grinned and ran ahead of his friend. Ludwig merely shook his head and sighed. Sometimes he seriously wondered why he decided to put up with the energetic Italian. 'I suppose it could be worse. I could have been stuck with his bruder...' Just the mere thought of being stuck with Feliciano's older brother, Lovino, made the German shudder. He was sure he would go insane a lot faster than he likely was now, if Lovino had been his charge instead of his brother.

Feliciano practically skipped down the hall, smiling to himself. The only thing on his mind was deciding what type of sauce he wanted to make for his pasta. That is, until he came across Alfred and Arthur walking outside. Stopping, Feliciano tilted his head some.

Curious, he decided to see what they were up to, making sure he kept his distance in case he was spotted. He had to be able to make a hasty retreat if the need came. Especially when he was dealing with Arthur. He didn't understand why none of the other nations, aside from Lovino, weren't afraid of the island nation. He was downright creepy! And those eyebrows. Feliciano was certain they were slowly eating the Brit's face and getting bigger every day.

Shuddering at the thought of his own face being slowly devoured by his eyebrows, Feliciano nearly missed the duo getting into the same car and leaving. Wait...hadn't Alfred come in his own car that day? Why was he getting into Arthur's car? Suddenly a stroke of brilliance (if you could call it that) slapped Feliciano in the face. Beaming, he ran outside and made sure Alfred and Arthur were gone before sneaking over to the American's forgotten Mustang convertible.

Glad the top was down, Feliciano peered over the passenger side door and looked around. Surprisingly the interior of the car was sparkling clean, save for an empty McDonald's coffee cup in the cup holder and a crumpled up hamburger wrapper on the floor. No doubt the American had visited his favorite fast food joint before coming to the meeting that morning.

Spotting the glove compartment, he quickly opened it and started to look through the few papers that were stored in there. Car insurance bill. Vehicle registration. Some junk Feliciano had no clue about. Finding nothing important, Feliciano was about to put everything back and close the compartment when something caught his eye. Picking up the insurance bill and examining it, he noticed that Alfred's address was on the front. Getting an idea, he pocketed the bill before hurrying away from the car.  
Spotting Ludwig walking to his car, Feliciano ran over to him. "Ve Ludwig!" Waving to his friend, the Italian grinned.

"Ah. There you are, Feli. Are you ready to go?" Ludwig asked as he opened the car door.

"Uh...oh! I need to go to the market! I need to get ingredients for my pasta sauce!" It was a lie and Feliciano felt terrible about lying to his best friend, but thinking that the result of his plan was more than enough to make up for it, he went along with the lie.

"Fine. I can drive you there." Ludwig offered.

"No, that's okay! I can walk!" Feliciano beamed.

"Alright. Just make sure you are back at the hotel before dark." Ludwig instructed as he got in the car.  
"Okie dokie!" Feliciano mock saluted. Rolling his eyes, Ludwig started the car and backed out.  
When he was gone, Feliciano grinned and took the paper out of his pocket and looked at the address. "He lives near here? Ve~ I didn't know that! This is going to be so easy! Ludwig is going to be so proud of me!" With a determined bounce in his step, Feliciano headed for his destination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfred's house sat on the edge of the city, surrounded by trees and brush. It was an old three story Victorian house, complete with a large front porch and a recently built garage. Under each window next to the porch were large shrubs to help give the old house a slightly more modern look. It was behind one of those shrubs that Feliciano was hiding.  
Not seeing or hearing anything from inside, he peeked in through a window. Not seeing any sign of life, he creeped out from behind the shrubs and made his way around back. Spotting the back door, he made his way over to it and turned the doorknob. Much to his surprise the door opened. With an excited grin, Feliciano made his way inside, being careful to not make any noise.

Much to his surprise, the inside of the house was spotless. He had honestly expected the normally messy nation to have old candy wrappers and other trash laying everywhere.  
"Mr. America really keeps his house clean~" Feliciano said with a smile.

The interior of the house was surprisingly old fashioned, save for the modern day appliances in the kitchen, giant flat screen TV hanging on the wall, and a stereo system that would make even the most die-hard music enthusiast cry in jealousy.  
Deciding to explore the house, Feliciano started walking through the living room. Pictures hung on the wall, CDs, DVDs, and even a few Blu-ray movies lined the numerous shelves resting against the wall.

"Ve~ Oh wow! He has lots of movies!" Momentarily getting sidetracked, Feliciano looked through the movies and CDs in search of anything he might like. Seeing plenty of movies and music artists he had never heard of, he pouted slightly.

Remembering his previous mission, he immediately perked up and began to search the rest of the house. By the time he made it back to the living room, Feliciano was about to leave when he noticed a door between the kitchen and dining room. Curious, he opened it and peeked in. When nothing but darkness greeted him, he shivered and was about to close the door when a sound caught his attention. Opening the door a bit more, he leaned in.  
Squinting his eyes, he tried to make out any details in the dark. The first thing he noticed was a set of stone steps leading down into what he quickly assumed was a basement.

"Ve~I wonder if there's anything down there..." Feliciano said to himself. Finding a light switch, he hesitantly flipped it up, blinking when the bright light momentarily blinded him. After letting his eyes adjust to the bright light, he looked down the steps. The walls and floors were both made of the same type of stone used to create the steps.

Taking a cautious step down, Feliciano listened carefully for anything that might prove to be dangerous. After making it to the bottom with out incident, he looked around carefully. Cob webs hung from the ceiling and in a couple of spots on the floor that dipped down, water pooled and dripped down from above. Shivering from the cold damp air, Feliciano was about to go back upstairs when a rusty metal gate caught his attention. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a holding cell.

Remembering similar cells in dungeons in his own country, he whimpered softly. Why would Alfred have a holding cell under his house? Letting his curiosity get the best of him again, he slowly stepped closer. The interior of the cell was dark compared to the rest of the cellar. In the faint light that fell into the cell, Feliciano could just make out the form of a person laying near the farthest corner. Suddenly scared, Feliciano was about to run out when he suddenly got the feeling the person inside needed help. Trembling like a leaf, he slowly stepped up to the large door and looked inside.

"_Ci-ciao_..." His voice echoed around the damp cellar, adding to the creepy feeling already in place. Feliciano grew concerned that the person may be injured or dead when no answer came. Looking on the walls for a key or something to use to pick the lock, he soon found the key and quickly unlocked the door.  
As he stepped inside, Feliciano froze mid-step when he realized the person was staring at him. As his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, he gasped in shock. For there, sitting in front of him, dirt smudged on his face and his clothes tattered and dirty, was Alfred.


End file.
